


Tribute To a Text At 23:44

by nikeforova



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 15:41:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12938421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikeforova/pseuds/nikeforova
Summary: Yuri and Mila share a late-night conversation.





	Tribute To a Text At 23:44

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Orchids_and_Fictional_Cities](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orchids_and_Fictional_Cities/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Lullaby of Birdland](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9849779) by [Orchids_and_Fictional_Cities](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orchids_and_Fictional_Cities/pseuds/Orchids_and_Fictional_Cities). 



> this is a big oof but I'm trying really hard, I promise.
> 
> this work is a gift to Orchids_and_Fictional_Cities because it's entirely based off of their absolutely wonderful work! I cry every time I read it.

Some nights, Yuri holds her when she cries. Tonight is not a night for Mila to cry.

It starts in her apartment as the cars rush by. Silence is the only thing they can comfortably share for now, her mind and body busy repairing themselves from practice.

"How's Viktor doing?"

"I don't know. We haven't talked in ages." It's true, they haven't. Viktor blocked her on her social media a few weeks ago. There's always a reason. This time, she knows why, so she lets him.

Yuri has his head on her lap, hands moving deftly through the think gold strands. Shifting, he turns his head to look at her fully.

"Mila, he seemed really, really angry."

Mila cringes subtly as she thinks about the words. Yuri catches it. How much was Yuri even told? Did Viktor make a choice not to tell him?

"Do you know, Yuri?" come the words, spilling out before she considers how impulsive the words are. 

The heating hums, blowing his hair ever so slightly below her fingers. Mila feels her heart ache for him, his face showing the words he's unwilling to say. She's absolutely certain he's looking for answers now.

"No, I don't." 

She lets out a small, bitter laugh. It's time to tell Yuri what Viktor wanted to teach but couldn't. He wanted to save Yuri, maybe? It's all on Viktor, but it's not a bad choice.

So Mila tells him.

"There was once a boy who sold his soul to do what he loved, Yuri." A start, an olive branch. The words have no immediate effect on him, his frown becoming more pronounced as his green eyes narrow in speculation.

She continues. Words are coming to her, slowly. A story, that's what she needs to weave.

"He thought he sold it to a kind old man. He loved his craft, so he was happy."

He shifts, his feet curling up under him. 

"So," Mila continues, the story blooming in her palm, "he let the land see it. All of them loved him, celebrated him. The boy showed his talent for all to see, and they slowly took it from him until it was his no longer. The boy accepted this, as it was necessary to keep on winning. The years passed, and he offered more and more each year. Slowly, he realized that he hadn't given his soul to the kind old man, but to those who listened."

She feels Yuri tense, noticing this had something to do with the anger.

"He searched and searched for the last scraps of his soul, but he couldn't find them. His father returned to him, and also rejected the last scraps of his soul. He realized that his soul hadn't been treated like a soul exists."

A pause in the air. She collects her courage and offers the rest.

"A soul isn't supposed to be given. It is, instead, supposed to give and return. The man had been offering his soul to be judged. The public hadn't been listening, but judging his soul simply by his playing. Too much giving, too much taking, no return, no gift back to the man.

He eventually collected it back, piece by piece. It was hard work, scouring people and places for things he had left behind. Years passed, and he now had a soul. He was still troubled, for he didn't know how to give without giving completely. There were parts that were still missing.

He tried selling his soul again to a magical elixir. He noticed that it couldn't help, but it could make him whole again for a short time by taking his senses away.

Then, he found people to trust. Slowly, he gave small parts, only what he wanted to give. He gave himself a new name.

Slowly, he fell in love. A prince showed him that it was okay to give slowly, to be incomplete, to heal. Troubles were on their shoulders, but they loved each other.

Then, one day, a shard of his soul, a young boy, came to him. His name was Yuri, and he demanded that Viktor return to what had stolen so much from him, what he had worked so hard to gain."

Green eyes shut.

"Skating demands your soul, Yuri. But it also gives to you. Viktor's music stopped giving to him. Viktor's own body stopped giving to him. It wasn't his fault, and it wasn't your fault either. Blame the game this time, not the player."

Hot tears fell into her lap. She holds him for the night.

It's all she can do, after all, on nights like this.

 

In her pocket, a vibration. 

iMessage, 23:44  
viktor!!  
yura, i watched your fs the other day. i think  
your expression was heartbreaking in all  
the right places. whenever you want to visit  
and talk, i'll be here. 

She allows herself a small smile. Things will work out.


End file.
